A Slice of Life
by K.Henderson
Summary: Derek isn't just a sour puss who wouldn't know fun if it hit him in the nose. In fact, despite his horrible past and his awful present, the times in between the bad times were...normal. Derek made friends and had a life that didn't revolve around his past. When friends from New York decide to crash Beacon Hills the pack plus Stiles begins to see Derek in a new light. OC's and AU
1. Chapter 1

_~_**1 **

_A Slice of Life story_

* * *

~.~

**Muse: So... basically I'm bored and in being bored an idea struck me, and when ideas strike me bad things tend to happen to characters I like. The newest character that I cannot get enough of is Derek Hale, because, and to use the nickname, he is such a Sour Wolf. No really. He's like, a ball of grumpy filled angst (for obvious and valid reasons) sautéed in dry wit with a side of gallows humor. Is it any wonder why I've come to love this character? And because I love him I've decided to give him *le gasp* friends!**

**I know. How is that even possible? Well it occurred to me that because he's a grump who grumps like a champ, he's mildly attractive *shifty eyes* and he's actually got this dark sense of humor and snark that he'd actually attract a certain amount of people to hang around with. Like, maybe one or two real friends that he can call and just growl at, who laugh and call him out on his growling? Why the hell not, right? Anyway, that was the reason I wrote this, boredom and the intense urge to just _this_.**

* * *

~.~

Scott couldn't tell who the girl was from his vantage point in the tree, but from what his senses were telling him (he'd been working on that at least) he could tell that she was a female human who used the same moisturizer as his mother, wore little makeup and had waves of annoyance, fear and a bit of humor rolling off of her. He could hear her too, her voice was a low southern drawl with a tiny lit at the end. He could admit it was kind of cute the way she yelled at Derek Hale, like she wasn't going to get her face chewed off for calling him a 'damn idiot' and saying things like 'DD, I could kill you right now.'

And Derek seemed cowed, shoulders hunched, head dropped forward like a lost puppy or like Scott when his mom had ever had a word with any of his teachers, like Derek was about to be grounded or something. That shouldn't be funny, if anything that should be scary because Derek didn't really do 'scared little boy,' his facial expressions going from agonizing guilt, to pain filled brooding, homicidal rage and finally snarky bastard.

"Dee Dee you damn sunovabitch, you coulda give me a damn call!" She shouts again, this time removing her hands from the pockets of her brown leather jacket (again, Scott wondered if this was a being around werewolves thing.) Her short brown curls bobbed around her head as she looked towards Issac to the side. "And when you did call all it was for was tellin' me Laura's dead and I don't hear nothin' in weeks? What in the hell is wrong with you?"

"I didn't want-"

"I don't give a damn of what you want! You call."

"I just thought-"

"I don't have a whole lot of care I got for what you were thinking either!" She shoved at his solid chest and shockingly enough he moved back with the momentum. Derek could have stood stalk still and unaffected, but he'd let the tiny dwarf of a woman push him. "And what the hell is all of this? Is _this _your old house? What the hell are you doin' in this house?" She makes a grand sweeping gesture towards the burnt out remains of the Hale house with what might have been a look of anguish or anger.

Scott can't tell because their pretty far and even if his eyes work better than before that doesn't mean he can exactly get a good picture of her face, since her back is to him.

Derek rolls his eyes and looks to the side at Issac like the teen can actually do something other than gape like a fish out of water in shock. "I'm sorry."

Well, thought Scott, I can officially cross Derek Hale says I'm sorry off of things I'll never hear list.

Issac seems to be similarly shocked by Derek's apology. Derek himself just looks like he wants to fade away, possibly sucked under ground to die of humiliation if the peeking of red at the tips of his ears are anything to go on.

"Sorry that you didn't call or sorry because I had to fly out here to find you? I should string you up and beat you for all the stress you given me! Never in my life met someone as pig-headed and forgetful as you!"

"Bertie..."

"Ah hell." She crosses her arms across her chest with a sigh. "Don't with the damn eyes, I hate it when you do that thing with the eyes."

"No you don't. You like my eyes."

Derek is being...playful? In what universe did Scott wake up in today? Derek isn't allowed to be playful and he sure as hell isn't supposed to use the puppy dog eyes. No. Not ever.

"Save it." Bertie finally turns around and Scott gets a better look at her. A heart-shaped olive face, large brown eyes, a long nose and full lips with a little too much ruddy gloss. Cute. Normal looking. "You are taking me out to eat and to explain yourself. You are going to tell me everything from the beginning to now and why you're at this...house." She turns her attention to Issac who seems just as lost as Scott feels. "You gotta name?"

"Issac."

"Issac." She lets the name toil in her mouth, her lips pursed. "He hasn't seduced you has he?"

"What? No!"

"Really?" She grins. "Huh...well. You wanna come with? You both seemed a little engaged when I came up in the cab. Didn't mean to interrupt whatever the hell it is you both got on."

"No. I mean. I don't want to get in the way." Issac shoots Derek a look. "Right?"

"Just..."

"Ah honey, its alright. Dee Dee's payin'."

"You might as well grab your jacket. She wont stop talking until you agree." Derek says.

"Oh. Okay then I guess?"

The three walk towards the car, Bertie deciding to take the back seat. Issac automatically refuses the front but Bertie just laughs. 'Look at me, I'm a midget. You'd be crushed if you took the back.'

Once they're all situated in the car and Scott figures he's free to hop off his branch once they leave, he ready's a hand against the bark and lets his legs dangle. The passenger window rolls down and Issac looks up at him, pink-faced and shy. "You're requested." He shouts up at him.

"Get your ass down kid!"

Apparently Scott needs to work on his stealth.

* * *

**Muse: I have to say. I love Bertie. I love her to bits. Lets be honest. Everyone has a Bertie. That one friend who bustles into your life is as bossy as she is sweet and annoying. Everyone has a Bertie.**

**And so because everyone has a Bertie I decided that Derek has a Bertie.**

**Lord save him from the ass kicking he will surely receive somewhere in the chapters of this story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**2 **

_A Slice of Life story_

* * *

~.~

**Muse: So... basically I'm bored and in being bored an idea struck me, and when ideas strike me bad things tend to happen to characters I like. The newest character that I cannot get enough of is Derek Hale, because, and to use the nickname, he is such a Sour Wolf. No really. He's like, a ball of grumpy filled angst (for obvious and valid reasons) sautéed in dry wit with a side of gallows humor. Is it any wonder why I've come to love this character? And because I love him I've decided to give him *le gasp* friends!**

**I know. How is that even possible? Well it occurred to me that because he's a grump who grumps like a champ, he's mildly attractive *shifty eyes* and he's actually got this dark sense of humor and snark that he'd actually attract a certain amount of people to hang around with. Like, maybe one or two real friends that he can call and just growl at, who laugh and call him out on his growling? Why the hell not, right? Anyway, that was the reason I wrote this, boredom and the intense urge to just _this_.**

* * *

~.~

Emmy's Diner is warm when they get in and Scott wonders why he's never been there before. The building has been up since as long as he can remember. It's long and L shaped on the inside, booths stretching out in front of them and to the left. As soon as they walked in the regulars gave them a cursory glance and then returned to their meals.

The scent of stale grease hung heavily in the air but it wasn't uncomfortable as they made their way to the furthest booth. Bertie, who'd spoken a mile a minute in the car without revealing anything of actual import about herself and Derek, had slid into the book first with Issac sliding in beside her. This left Derek and Scott the opposite side of the booth, also they'd have to sit together.

Perfect.

"So," Bertie plucked a grimy menu and gave the contents a glance. "Isn't this just nice?"

"Really Bertie? You're opening with nice?" Derek gives the menu a quick look and grunts. "Get what you want." He tells Scott and Issac with the usual order.

Scott's hackles rise and he almost wants to tell Derek that he'll order when he's damn good and ready, but then he remembers that he's actually hungry (the reason he'd gone looking for Issac in the first place) and decides that a greasy burger and a coke wouldn't hurt.

"Dee Dee-"

"Don't call me that. My name is Derek-"

"Oh now it's Derek? Takin' a tone with me like I'm in trouble. I should cuff those huge ass ears!"

Issac squirms in his seat with his eyes glued to the menu like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever read. Scott just wants to laugh.

"So how do you two know each other?" Scott asks as Derek waves over a waitress to the table. "You seem pretty tight."

"Tight ain't even the word, honey- hold on." She turns large brown eyes up at the waitress and gives her order; a sugary iced tea, curly fries and hashbrowns-_ if you please ma'am_ and_ thank you_.

Derek makes a disgusted face but doesn't say anything after she gives him a narrow eyed glare daring him. After the orders are made, cajoling Issac to order more than just a root beer, and Bertie goes back to answering Scott's question.

She is an old friend of Laura's. They met six years ago, a year after Laura and Derek moved to New York to live with an elderly Aunt and Uncle (human Scott guesses) and recently, Derek, Bertie and Laura had been living together and working in a Deli in Queens up until Derek called about Laura and went missing.

"So...you guys live together?"

"We did until this moron-" She points directly at Derek, who is too busy looking out of the large plexiglass window at the line of parked cars. "-decided to abandon me."

"Well a lot has been going on." Issac supplies as the waitress returns with their drinks. He picks up his root beer and takes a long sip from the straw sucking a small piece of ice. He's thinking hard, considering what he's going to say. "With what happened to his sister and everything."

"I would have loved to know what happened. It woulda been nice if someone had called me." She said pointedly. "Hell, I'd have been a little better off knowing what was going on other than 'Laura's dead.' I thought something else had happened-I thought **he **was dead!"

"I'm sorry." Derek apologizes again. "I really am."

"I know. It would have just been nice if you called. I was worried."

Scott can understand that. Worried about her friends kid brother after another family tragedy. He wonders if she knows about the werewolf thing and is tempted to ask her about it. He doesn't. If she doesn't know he isn't going to be the one to tell her. Scott wonders about that.

Maybe Derek and Laura never told Bertie the truth because they needed normal in their lives. Someone who didn't know what they were who wasn't afraid of them at all. Scott wishes he could go back to the beginning, maybe to have been the one to realize what had happened to him before Stiles.

Because, even if Stiles is brave and smart he's still just a little bit afraid isn't he?

"Were you guys in school together?"

"We were." Derek answers as the waitress comes with their trays.

"Technically Dee Dee-I mean _Derek_ was taking a year off to...what was it again?"

"Bertie. Don't."

"_Find himself_." Bertie finishes off with a grin before she shoves a handful of curly fries into her mouth. Eerily she looks entire too much like Stiles and Scott ignores, suddenly, the parallels he's starting to see here.

"Find...himself?" Issac asks shyly, all big blue eyes and cheekbones. Bertie nods, chews and then gulps so fast that Scott imagines a ball going down her throat like a cartoon.

"Yep. Our boy with the giant eyebrows here is a writer!"

Derek tries to drown himself in his coffee or really wants to by the way he's staring into his mug with such longing. "Illustrator actually and shut up." He corrects her. "Also, the _book_ isn't gonna happen. Leave it alone."

"An illustrator?"

"Basically he paints pictures for a living. Book covers."

"Tell me its harlequin novels. Please _please_ tell me that's what he does."

"Oh don't I wish!"

"Oh God, all he'd have to do is paint himself in like, breeches and an open pirate shirt."

"Scott!"

"Don'cha forget the wind blowing through his hair. That's always important."

Scott didn't miss Derek's reddened face. He was actually _blushing_. It was really the perfect day. Scott seriously considered marking it on his calendar (the one in the kitchen.)

"So you _were_ writing a book?" Issac decides to save his Alpha from further humiliation by sort of changing the subject.

"I was." Derek answered stiffly. "Until recent events which have...well. You know."

Issac and Scoot know so they don't talk about it.

"Wait. Know what? What do they know?"

Except Bertie.

* * *

~.~

**Muse: Second chapter is short. And he's a illustrator? Yes. Mostly he does art for covers, sometimes he gets childrens' books (will be revealed later). Why? Because imagine Derek Hale with delicate painting tools in his hands. Its weird. Review please and don't flame. This story is mostly a way to stave off some of the boredom.**


	3. Chapter 3

**2 **

_A Slice of Life story_

* * *

~.~

**Muse: So... basically I'm bored and in being bored an idea struck me, and when ideas strike me bad things tend to happen to characters I like. The newest character that I cannot get enough of is Derek Hale, because, and to use the nickname, he is such a Sour Wolf. No really. He's like, a ball of grumpy filled angst (for obvious and valid reasons) sautéed in dry wit with a side of gallows humor. Is it any wonder why I've come to love this character? And because I love him I've decided to give him *le gasp* friends!**

**I know. How is that even possible? Well it occurred to me that because he's a grump who grumps like a champ, he's mildly attractive *shifty eyes* and he's actually got this dark sense of humor and snark that he'd actually attract a certain amount of people to hang around with. Like, maybe one or two real friends that he can call and just growl at, who laugh and call him out on his growling? Why the hell not, right? Anyway, that was the reason I wrote this, boredom and the intense urge to just _this_.**

* * *

~.~

"He has _friends_?"

"_A_ friend."

"So no plural. Just the one?" Stiles shoves a liberal about of fries in his mouth and Scott is getting a major sense of deja vu. He wonders if he should introduce Stiles and his bizarro twin but decides against it.

When that travesty happens he wants to be nowhere near it. One Stiles is enough of a hassle to deal with (Scott has known him since the third grade so he's got a handle on it. Yet, there are times where he's sufficiently stumped when Stiles opens his mouth. He's just learned to not react. Its safer this way.) Two? That's asking too much from him without proper preparation.

"Well one that we know of." Scott supplies as his eyes wander towards the front door of Emmy's.

He isn't sure why he'd suggested the place, it isn't like it's a popular spot for his age demographic but the atmosphere is chill and there is little to no chance that he'd bump into anyone from school.

It's a safe place where the only other occupants are over tired and overworked truck drivers that don't have the time, patience or interest in whatever two teenagers have to say. It's the perfect place to be completely invisible (didn't hurt that the burgers were heavenly.)

"That's...kind of sad."

"Dude, up until the _you know_," Scott's voice lowers only slightly as he gives Stiles a look. "you and I were really only friends with each other and no one else."

"Dude. I thought you hated him." Stiles reaches for his cup leaving behind a ring of moisture on the plastic table top as he lifts it. "Seriously?"

"What?"

"You're defending Derek Hale." Stiles chews on the tip of his straw before he takes a long sip of lemonade, awkward side mouthed like usual. "What is that?"

"I'm not defending him." He reaches for his burger (only medium rare) and takes a bite, chewing slowly. "Okay. So I totally defended him."

"Why is that? I mean, did he somehow go from Raging Alpha Douche to Mr. Nice Guy in the week I was out-of-town?" Stiles shakes his head only slightly disappointed. "Wish I could have been here to see the miracle. I should have just stayed."

"It was your grandmother's birthday. Besides, you went to Disney World. Disney World is better than catching a peek of Derek Hale's humanity."

"...that...makes me feel only minutely better actually."

"Plus, Epcot, the Florida beaches. And Universal Studios. Dude. Potterworld. Butterbeer." Scott voice lowers dangerously-jealously. "Your _week_ in Hogwarts/Mickey Mouse land tops."

"Yeah." Stiles grins widely and rubs the stubble on his head. "It does."

"You're a tremendous prick, by the way." Scott points out before taking another delicious bite of burger.

"What? What'd I do?"

"You promised me a wand." Scott dabs the corner of his mouth with a stiff napkin. "I see no wand."

"Ah about that." Stiles winces. "I actually...forgot about the wand- but hey I got you one better!"

"Better?"

"In the mail." Stiles shrugs. "It's...something you've always wanted."

"More than a wand?"

"More than a wand- more than a brightly colored red and gold scarf even."

"More than Quidditch Throughout the Ages?"

"_Not_ more than that. Never more than that book- by the way?"

Scott laughs and its nice. He wonders when it'd been the last time since he and Stiles had a moment to themselves that didn't have anything to do with his sudden change in species and what sort of death and gloom that might entail.

"I'm getting through it again. It's just I've been really into rereading-"

"If you say anything about Artemis Fowl I will skin you alive." Stiles mock glares through another mouthful of curly fries. "_Mmm_...you've had that book since I bought it five months ago. In fact, half of my personal library is currently missing."

"Sorry. I'd have given them back a little sooner it's just been hard to finish one book and go to the next with all of this crap happening." He answers honestly. He's still smiling but there's something lacking. It isn't honest smiles anymore. Scott doesn't think he'll ever get to innocently smile again. "I'll give 'em back."

"No it's cool. I've read them all anyway."

They chat a little more, shoot the breeze, chin wag whatever you want to call it. They talk about things they remembered were funny from the year before, they talk about Lydia Martin and how Stiles is pretty sure he's always going to be even a little bit in love with her.

They talk about Jackson's sudden departure. Stiles asks about places he and Issac hung out in, that lately its been a little lonely without Scott around. Scott treds lightly on the subject of Issac. It's weird, having two good friends who can't seem to mesh well enough to sort of like each other. Even when its obvious that they'd be great together but were just as hilariously and equally as stubborn as the other.

Stiles asks about Allison. It's weird and strained between them. He'll see her in the halls and sometimes they acknowledge each other with silent hello how are you's but that's the extent of it. From what Scott knows is that Allison and her father are 'retired' from hunting and are just focused on living their lives.

And maybe Allison might have started dating someone, maybe that might be why Scott's not in the know with Allison why he wont let them be friends. It just hurts too much even if he understands, he tells Stiles. It hurts to know that it wasn't really meant to be anything more than it was and Stiles, the best friend that Scott's missed, admits that he might not necessarily understand but agrees with him.

Derek's name drops in every now and then. Sometimes it's about Stiles other friends-the ones they'd met in the club. The girls from the club mention something about a tall dark and handsome with caterpillar eyebrows to Stiles every time they call him. That's mostly it, but Scott doesn't miss the tone in Stiles voice when he says Derek's name. It's similar to the _Danny tone_ when Stiles thought he was being secretive about his big gay crush that no one (but everyone) knew about.

(Not that Scott could blame him. Danny was just the kind of guy that made you look. Straight or gay.)

Scott wants to laugh because Stiles is so obvious it's crazy and he toys with the idea of describing Bertie in detail to Stiles just to get a reaction that he's sure will be nothing but jealousy.

But he's a good friend so he doesn't.

* * *

~.~

They part ways at Scott's place a while later Stiles dropping him off with a bag of burgers and a shove. It's when Scott watches the Jeep pull away that he realizes he'd missed time alone with Stiles.

Of course this is when he senses Issac is already in his bedroom that Scott feels the pressing need to take out his phone and text Stiles to come get him. That they need to have a conversation pronto because he's got so much he needs to say, to confess.

He'd be a liar if he said he didn't have a secret big gay crush on a certain someone either. Only one person knew for sure and Allison, who'd walked right in on it had decided to only give him her support. She'd been worried about him.

_"I...I can't say I'm surprised."_ She'd said in the school parking lot on a Monday evening, smelling like cucumber body wash and only a little sweat-nervous as she was.

_"It isn't what you think-we didn't-we dont-!"_

But she'd shaken her head and smiled widely at him like she used to, like she knew a secret about him that he'd not yet realized in retrospect, this might have been the biggest reason he loved Allison. She seemed to pick up on things about Scott and accepted him for everything. She'd really been the worlds best girlfriend (up until the crazy rampage) and he would be lucky to find another girl like her.

Or _guy_, if he wants to be specific.

What she'd caught Scott almost doing, what Issac himself hadn't realized at all (shockingly, the guy was remarkably thick when it came to any sort of romantic intention) was Scott leaning forward, far too forward to be completely innocent.

Allison had almost seen Scott kiss Issac. A move that Issac had obviously missed if the confused expression on his face was anything to go by after Allison had dropped her bag at the door and Scott had fallen out of his seat.

At least it'd been Allison walking in on his near tremendous blunder rather than Harris, who'd walked in only a moment later, raised a withering brow and demanded the three sit, shut up and enjoy their detention.

_"I'm happy for you."_ She knocked her shoulder with his, peering up at him with warm and honest brown eyes._ "If he makes you happy I'm happy."_

Meaning every word she said.

He feels a little guilty about ignoring her now, after he'd found out about..._Dave_. Her older and wonderfully normal not in the know college freshman boyfriend. Dave Wuthers with the blond hair and the Jackson Whittemore good looks and unbelievably sweet disposition.

Okay, so Scott is totally happy for Allison. Happy that she's moved on and decided on being with a completely normal person-a human. But what grates his nerves is that Dave is so...perfect. So squeaky clean perfect that you just want to...do something awful.

And he's nice, which is worse. Had he been an unlikable dick-a Jackson, then it would have been okay. But Dave was nice, really **_really_** nice.

Scott walks into his house and straight up the stairs, his steps are a little heavier than normal but he's thinking about Perfect Dave and Allison and their perfect relationship. He's jealous and man enough to admit it-although not for the reasons he'd thought he'd been jealous about initially. Scott's envious because for Allison, falling into a relationship with Dave had been so easy.

For Scott, well he's _Scott_. He's a mostly normal, blundering teenage sack of jumping hormones that have no idea how to go about being with anyone. He's really starting to wonder if Allison is just the nicest person in the world because she'd given him a chance, because Scott knows, for a fact, that he's never been much of a catch.

At all.

He walks into the room, his door had been opened, and he feels the wind knock right out of him. His chest twists and turns and (if he's read enough of Nora Roberts, then the euphemism fits) his loins go all...he shuts down that train of thought. Straight down.

Issac is asleep. On Scott's bed wearing a pair of boxers shorts (with hearts) and normal black t-shirt and really, Issac has no right being that delectable drooling on Scott's pillows, dead to the world. It's downright criminal.

Scott makes his way into his bathroom, shuts the door lightly and after hyperventilating in front of the mirror, decides that the worlds coldest shower if the only way out of an awfully embarrassing situation.

While he shivers and lathers up he thinks about anything that can get his raging and really unfortunate _happy_ down to normal

Think of **Stiles**.

It doesn't work.

Think about **work**.

That doesn't work.

**Apple pie**.

Doesn't work...and now he's hungry.

Think about **Derek**.

..._really_ doesn't work, the opposite in fact and Scott has a bit of a mild heart attack.

Think about **Allison**.

_Okay that worked. Oh my God, why did that work that should not work how did it work?_

His process of thought is a jumbled mess of arousal because of Issac (he figures the Derek thing is only due to the aesthetically pleasing reasons because Derek is an ass and Scott is in no way_ in like_ with him at all ever) and Allison.

He's lost an erection thinking about Allison. Not Allison with Dave. Not Allison with Jackson or with any other person. Just Allison.

He rinses off his body and starts shampooing his hair, switching on the warmer water certain that another unfortunate hard on isn't going to happen again. He'd thought about Allison smiling, laughing, kissing him and whispering things and..._nothing_.

Not a twitch, not a pull. Sure, Scott got a warm tingly feeling in his chest because, damn if he doesn't love her, but that's the extent of it.

Scott, miraculously is totally over Allison enough not to become aroused by the mere thought of her, or any thought, even remembering the naughty things...

This is distressing.

The shampoo gets into his eyes and he hisses in pain as he rubs at his eyes under the shooting warm water. Everything is blurry when he opens his eyes, over sensitive as he reaches for the conditioner and applies, but they aren't burning anymore.

Huh, he thinks, this isn't my conditioner-in fact...

He reaches for the shampoo he'd used and reads the label; Ouidad. Confused, because he's always been a Suave man, he looks around the bathroom. Suave anything has miraculously disappeared. Scott take a whiff and groans because the shampoo and conditioner belong to Issac.

Which explains his lack of dress in Scott's room.

He uses the conditioner (switches back the cold water) and stops thinking about Issac asleep in the other room. Innocent Issac who couldn't smell arousal if it walked straight up to him and shoved its hand right down the front of his jeans.

_Tight jeans_, Scott thinks with a leer,_ skin-tight black jeans that hug low at the hips and cup the ass so nicely-_

He bangs his head against the tile.

Yeah, like that'll work.

He decides as soon as he's nice and cold and pruney to call Stiles and get as far from Issac as humanly possibly tonight. If he has to innocently share his bed again he might accidentally forget to be perfectly friendly.

You don't molest your friends no matter how much you really might want to. It's a rule.

He doesn't get the chance to call Stiles like he'd wanted to. Not after he takes his time drying off and dressing in the change of clothes in the linen closet his mother had placed there earlier that week.

It's the assessment of new things in his bathroom that has him reeling and forgetting to call Stiles. Its the new toothbrush next to his. The new electric razor that doesn't seem to have ever been used. The new change of clothes in the linen closet and, hell, the shower curtain, the mat on the floor the brand of toilet paper-

It's all new and not his.

_What the hell?_

He walks out of his bathroom, a cloud of steam bustling right out with him, and spots Issac awake and laying against Scott's pillow reading Barbra Cartland.

Well isn't this great.

"Hey Scott. Question: Why do you have an alarmingly large stack of hidden trashy romance novels under your bed?" Issac asks with a small grin as his blue eyes rake over the page he's reading.

"You seem to be enjoying that trash you're reading." Scott rubs his hair towel dry trying not to think of all the impressive things he's suddenly in the mood to do (IE: naked fun things he'd only read about in fanfiction. He isn't sure he can trust fanfiction as a step by step guide on how to sex your man but he's read of a few pretty detailed Yaoi's in his day-the ones that go into detail about anal preparation.)

"I never said I _didn't_ like them. This one in particular. **Jigsaw** is pretty risque don't you think?"

"It's good."

"I can tell. It's almost falling apart it's been read so much." He carefully cradles the withered paperback and Scott's heart does a little flip because...No one, not even Stiles understood Scott's unhealthy obsession for cheesy romance novels.

And Issac seemed to be reading Scott's favorite book like he couldn't quite fathom how to stop, blue eyes quickly raking the pages.

"It's really good." Issac finally looks up and gives Scott a brilliant smile. "I love her later novels but this one...I think I might really love this book."

"I love you-"

"What?"

"-f-for loving that book!" Scott saves himself from ultimate humiliation and Issac's too confused to realize he's lying.

For his part (because Scott totally over reacted to the confession that Issac obviously didn't understand) Scott walks straight towards his door with his phone (which he'd pocketed in his flannel bottoms before leaving the bathroom) down the stairs and right out the house.

Because he really _can't_ right now.

He just can't.

* * *

~.~

**Muse: I really like writing Scott as something other than a Potato. He isn't really stupid in my headcanon just really naive. Plus-he likes trashy books! I had to, for some reason the thought that he has a collection of Barbra Cartland and Victoria Holt novels just made me giggle. Because Scott's romantic and sweet and gentle a straight from a shojo manga boyfriend. (He'll have those too.) Review please.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

_A Slice of Life story_

* * *

~.~

**Muse: So... basically I'm bored and in being bored an idea struck me, and when ideas strike me bad things tend to happen to characters I like. The newest character that I cannot get enough of is Derek Hale, because, and to use the nickname, he is such a Sour Wolf. No really. He's like, a ball of grumpy filled angst (for obvious and valid reasons) sautéed in dry wit with a side of gallows humor. Is it any wonder why I've come to love this character? And because I love him I've decided to give him *le gasp* friends!**

**I know. How is that even possible? Well it occurred to me that because he's a grump who grumps like a champ, he's mildly attractive *shifty eyes* and he's actually got this dark sense of humor and snark that he'd actually attract a certain amount of people to hang around with. Like, maybe one or two real friends that he can call and just growl at, who laugh and call him out on his growling? Why the hell not, right? Anyway, that was the reason I wrote this, boredom and the intense urge to just _this_.**

* * *

~.~

It isn't Stiles who sees him standing in only a pair of bottoms outside of the house. No, that would be too simple wouldn't it? It would be too ideal if Scott managed to get a hold of Stiles instead of getting nothing but rings only to wind up with...this.

Derek's sleek black car seems to be recently washed, it glimmers in the fading sunlight a little too brightly as it rolls to a stop and the window rolls ever so slowly down revealing a very curious and finally amused Derek Hale, who takes a large whiff through his impressive nostrils, asses the situation and finally full-out laughs.

"Seriously? You finally get a funny bone at its at my expense. Typical."

"Get in." Derek says gruffly, trying to be serious but really he's failing just as badly as he failed at being a competent alpha.

"No."

"So you're waiting for Stiles?"

"Yeah."

"Half naked outside while Issac, inside your house." Derek's eyebrows do that thing, where one lifts impossibly high on his forehead and his lips purse. Like he knows Scott's lying (well he is but Scott would rather die than admit that.) "You smell...aroused." Derek finally says after a long and silent awkward lapse. "And confused. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Oh my God seriously. Who are you and what have you done to the real Derek Hale?!"

"What? Shut up and get your ass in the car."

"No." Scott crosses his arms across his chest, and not just because he's a little cold. "You can't tell me what to do."

"Fine." Derek grunts before, suddenly grinning. It's a slow progression as his lips widen and even part a little. "We can just talk about the fact you seem to be having a bit of a crisis due to Issa-"

"Fine! Fine I'll get in." Scott shouts rounding the car and climbing inside. Derek, triumphantly laughs and drives off in the direction of town. "What's gotten into you, Suddenly Chatty Cathy?"

"Bertie," Derek begins still amused as ever (Scott isn't used to this softer and more human side of the psychopath he'd come to know and despise.) "-has this thing about communication. She say's that it's always nice to talk to people, that friends talk. While I don't consider you my friend-and why would I, let's be honest. I can't help but find this rather awkward situation with my beta a little...amusing. And worrying."

"What?" Scott asks completely blindsided not only by the truth behind Derek's words but the amount of words spoken as a whole. Derek doesn't do talking, in fact Stiles before, had a theory that, technically Derek didn't speak fluent English and only used the very few words he knew. Scott, while skeptical, would sometimes really wonder about that.

"You're dense." Derek rolls his eyes, a bit more of the familiar figure Scott is used to now as he speaks in a deep rumbling tone (well deeper than normal. Derek's physical appearance may suggest a deep and terrifying burr but his actual voice is really sort of boyish, young.) "You have the hots for my beta."

"Issac and I are friends."

"Really?" Derek doesn't even sound surprised by Scott's answer, in fact it seems like he'd been banking on it with the way he finishes his sentence, as if it had been typed it would be bold and italic. "So...this thing where you stare lovingly into each other's eyes, open-mouthed and intense does not suggest romantic feeling? What about Issac moving in with you, nesting?"

Oh.

Oh well okay, Scott can kind of see how Derek would assume Scott had a thing for Issac. Of course, this would also mean Derek assumed Issac had a thing for Scott, which was not true.

No way.

Nuthin' doin' not gonna happen ever.

Except maybe?

They pull up to an unfamiliar parking space behind some decent looking townhouses. Derek climbs out and Scott, unable to really do anything else with a lack of actual option, climbs out of the car and follows Derek towards a long sidewalk towards the townhouses. Scott stares at the white walls and red-painted doors with their peepholes and deep blue thatched roves.

They come to a particular door painted the same color as the roof- number 7. Derek unlocks the door, steps inside and Scott follows. He didn't think Derek had a place in town and suddenly felt foolish. Obviously Derek couldn't live in the burnt out remains of his house, and not in the depot either.

Though, if Scott ever thought about Derek living anywhere he would have figured a ratty hole in the wall apartment with yellowing wallpaper, a brown musty rug that smelled like cigarettes and furniture Derek had picked up from the street. Not the nice new furniture and ikea crap. The house smelled like Derek and Peter and Bertie, cleaning products and the lingering of Issac, Erica and Boyd.

Huh.

Derek must have had the place for a while.

They walk the narrow hall to the opening where Scott see's Bertie in the living room without Peter (who isn't home, it seems.) She's reading a paperback, a familiar tome with his name scrawled on the cover. Scott thought up and down he'd lost it somewhere around the time he'd gone looking for his inhaler in the woods and between staking out the Hale house. He figured that it must have fallen out of his pocket but no, there it was in Bertie's hands being put to use.

"So I see you found my copy of The Surrender of a Lady." He said causing Bertie to nearly yelp and drop the book. She flushes cutely up at Scott and before she can say anything scathing, she takes in his appearance.

"Derek, what have I told you about underage boys?"

"They're for fun?" Derek answers as he takes a seat beside her on the deep burgundy sofa. It looks really soft. "What?"

"Why is Scott half-naked?"

"Ask him yourself." Derek says in a sigh. "He's right here and fully capable."

Her bow lips purse, and Scott is glad to see none of the traces of heavy ruddy gloss on them. She stares him square in the eyes and grins. "Aint had a clue about you tastes for older men." She says. "Better steer clear of Peter or you might just swoon, he's such a handsome bastard."

"I don't." Scott mutters darkly. "And even if I did like older men there is no way in hell I'd go for a Hale."

"Ouch." Derek mock frowns as he places a hand over his heart. "Right there. Right in the heart it hurts."

"Whatever." Scott sits on the other side of the sofa forgoing the lazy boy chair. It smells too much like Erica and Boyd, it'd be wrong to sit there. "Look, I just need to cool down then I'll go home."

"What happened. Seriously kid, what in the hell happened that you are half-dressed prancing around this jerk?"

"Hey!"

Scott wonders at that. It had to do with Issac, that's for sure, but now that he thinks about it he feels out-of-place and silly for reacting the way he had. "Um."

"Did you and Issac have a fight? Oh no! You broke up didn't you?"

_What?_

"What?"

Bertie places both his hands in hers and squeezes. Derek, sitting behind her grins and Scott reaffirms that Derek is a bastard and that he will never defend him again. Ever.

"You and Issac. Fightin'?"

"No. Not fighting-wait what do you think is going on?"

"Ah honey, its okay to fight with your boyfriend. It happens."

"Issac isn't my boyfriend." Scott defends and finally lets out the entire ordeal. In detail. He has never in his life seen Derek Hale laugh quite so hard.

* * *

~.~

**Muse: Looks like Derek's been spending some times with people his own age enough to pull his grumpy head out of his ass, huh? I like to think he's a bit on the sarcastic side, a bit of a snark master who loves to tease. Because yes. That would be great. Derek with a sense of humor is so often not depicted in fan work. He's always sad and gloomy and angry (understandably so). I just wanted him with a sense of humor.  
**

**By the way, that novel of Scott's that Bertie's got her hands on? It's a real book and currently in my cousins bookshelf as I type. No kidding. **

**Apparently Issac and Scott aren't any good at hidding what everyone else already knows. Issac's as subtle as a quaffle during a Quiditch match or a giant lumbering elephant- this applies to canon because seriously? Watch the show and just look at all the "Sempai please notice me" stares with the big huge shinny eyes. (Horrifically enough, that makes Scott "Sempai" and I just do not know how to even deal with that.)**

**Drop a review (I know I'm like, power uploading here but, guys. A review just makes it all the sweeter if you like it.)**

**Also Un Betad because...I don't know.**


	5. Chapter 5

_A Slice of Life story_

* * *

~.~

**Muse: So... basically I'm bored and in being bored an idea struck me, and when ideas strike me bad things tend to happen to characters I like. The newest character that I cannot get enough of is Derek Hale, because, and to use the nickname, he is such a Sour Wolf. No really. He's like, a ball of grumpy filled angst (for obvious and valid reasons) sautéed in dry wit with a side of gallows humor. Is it any wonder why I've come to love this character? And because I love him I've decided to give him *le gasp* friends!**

**I know. How is that even possible? Well it occurred to me that because he's a grump who grumps like a champ, he's mildly attractive *shifty eyes* and he's actually got this dark sense of humor and snark that he'd actually attract a certain amount of people to hang around with. Like, maybe one or two real friends that he can call and just growl at, who laugh and call him out on his growling? Why the hell not, right? Anyway, that was the reason I wrote this, boredom and the intense urge to just _this_.**

* * *

~.~

"So let me get this straight. You _might_ have a gay crush on Issac, who wouldn't know an invitation if it bit him on the ass. Your ex girlfriend knows and supports you but you haven't had the chance to talk because you hate her nice boyfriend. And this _Stiles_ kid pretty much hates Issac and the feeling is mutual, so you have no idea how to tell him." Bertie takes a deep breath.

"-But you need to tell someone because you realized today in the shower that Issac's pretty much moved into your room, your _life_ and you don't mind much because you want to...**bang** him?"

Scott nods processing the information as much as Bertie is. Derek's long gone, having gotten himself a beer and headed upstairs for what he called a nap (the bastard, Scott discovers, snores like a chainsaw.)

"Yes."

"Shit kid. Seriously this aint so damn hard. Just tell Issac you like him, want to date him and hopefully that will lead to the inevitable _banging_ in the future. It's obvious he's got a thing for you."

"Really?"

Bertie rolls her eyes, but it isn't malicious-its like his mother, who does it when she's exasperated but amused all at once.

"The way he was eyeing you at Emmy's made me think you were both something of an item. So yes, I think so."

"Oh. Oh whoa cool." Scott's excited. Nervous as hell but excited. Maybe he wont be so horrible at this, maybe he's just as good as Allison with nabbing the perfect guy (oh God he never thought that would happen. Ever.)

It doesn't even occur to him that Issac might not feel the same way besides that, Issac's a kindred, died in the wool, trashy romance novel lover. This is fate. This is **destiny**!

There's a knock on the door which essentially ends Scott's romantic train of thought about destiny and running off into the sunset and _Issac 'sgolden curls bouncing with momentum-blue eyes shinning up into his own_-.

Scott smells copious amounts of booze, nicotine and people. Not a slew of people not a huge amount of people. Just three dudes and two chicks.

"Oh goodie!" Bertie claps her hands together, tucks Scott's book into the drawer of the side table and scampers down the long hall to the front door. "Dee Dee they're here!"

The door opens and Scott, from where he's standing can see a muscled red-bearded man wearing an expensive black suit carrying a six-pack of beer in one hand while pulling something behind him (later Scott will realize here all about the keg and how this man single-handedly wrestled a couple of frat boys for it.)

Behind Suit guy two other guys come in. The taller of the two is lightly tanned with large bottle cap glasses and thick ropy dreads. He's wearing jnco brand jeans (Scott is amazed because no one wears jnco's anymore) and a loose Beatles t-shirt that has seen better days, what appear to be nipple piercings glimmering through the ratty thin cloth of the shirt.

The other guy is shorter than Dreads Guy, maybe Scott's height, and dark like Danny with short spiked hair like Derek's. He's muscular without over doing it, not as well built as Derek but close to it. His muscles stretching the teal cloth of his polo tightly over his chest and his blue jeans hug his legs just a tad too tightly.

The girls are similar to Bertie. Bubbly with loud voices carrying over to Scott, and he's sure if he weren't a werewolf he might still have heard their conversation (later, he looks up fellatio when he gets home and laughs his ass off until he realizes _who_ fellatio was in reference to-and that is something he never needed to know about Derek. Ever.) They're just as loud as Bertie and just as vulgar with their jokes.

One girl is almost as tall as Derek with a shock of blond dreads, similar to Dreads guy. Her dreads are threaded with beads and what looks like bright green thread, clicking together with every step she takes. Her bust is small (_mostly_ gay for Issac he might be, but Scott is still straight enough to see a good rack from any amount of distance) as well as her waist and hips. She's willowy and delicate with an accent he can't quite place.

Her electric blue eyes lock in on Scott and she leers.

Another red head, the other girl is dressed for a rave, fishnets, tall platform shoes and all with her hair in outrageous pigtails. Her bottle green eyes are colored heavily with black kohl and her full plush lips are drenched in red rouge and tilt upwards at one corner as she spots what Blondy sees-_Scott_.

"Benny you brought...beer?" Bertie steps takes in Suit guy's (Benny) charge and grins. "You know Dee can't get drunk unless you lace it. You aren't being fair to the man of the house."

"Cher I'm bein' more than fair. Lookit Doyle. You thinkin' he's got jus' his wallet in dem jeans?" Benny hands the six-pack to Dreads guy (Doyle) who greets Bertie with a crooked mouth grin (he's got a chipped upper lateral at the right.) "Besides. Who says this is all I got?"

"In the trunk?"

"In the trunk." Benny takes Bertie in a one arms hug. "How's Dee Dee been?"

"He's been an asshole. I've made it my mission to ease the pole out of his ass."

"And the status of that mission?"

"Mostly successful."

The blonde slides passed them and into the house with a pinch to Bertie's bottom. She skips down the hall towards Scott, who has the expression of deer caught in the headlights. Still mostly naked from the waist up (obviously) he's beginning to feel out of his depth around...adults.

_Young_ adults. There is a horror he has never felt. These are young adults that apparently know Derek fairly well.

_Huh_, he thinks,_ so Derek does have more than one friend_.

Time to call Stiles, beat a hasty retreat and wonder aloud how it's possible that Derek** I'm the Alpha now** Hale can have friends _period_.

"_Olá caro_." The blonde purrs into his ear. Her thin arm comes up and rests over his shoulder as she leans against his side. "I'm Gabriella Cortez and who are you?"

"Oh Gabi leave him alone!" The red-head's voice comes out an annoying shriek in Scott's ears (he is officially the worst werewolf that ever existed. How was she able to sneak up on him so fast in those platforms?)

"But look at how delicious he looks, _menina_." Gabriella's lips widen into a vicious smile. "Derek has called us a stripper just to welcome us. Isn't that nice?"

"Why the hell would I do anything nice for you? I hate you guys!"

Derek walks down the stairs and is...not the Derek that Scott is familiar with. Sure he's still brooding in the face and his hair is just as tall but his glassy green eyes are lighter, there's not the shadow of a beard on his jaw and his clothes...

The Derek Hale the comes down the stairs is...he's wearing a collard shirt under a navy sweater, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, he's wearing a pair of formfitting trousers and sensible loafers.

He looks like a regular guy.

"Dee Dee!" The red-head races towards the stairs and the Derek clone. Scott gives him credit-he doesn't even flinch as she launches herself at his chest. "Fuckin'A man!" She slaps his chest hard. "Where the fuck have you been?"

"Lindsey. You're wig." The red head (Lindsey) doesn't even flinch as Derek plucks the obnoxious red pigtailed wig from her head, tossing it towards Bertie who catches and snorts. "Why are you wearing wigs again? You have hair."

"But it's short Dee Dee."

Her hair is short, maybe three inches long and light brown. It suits her tiny features and large bottle green eyes well at least.

Derek's eyes are narrowed just so, amused far beyond what Scott is used to. Derek does surly well, Derek smirks cruelly and chuckles darkly. He doesn't do amused, and warm eyed or humored.

What the hell?

"Gabi stop feeling the poor kid up. You could get arrested." Doyle's friend, the dark-skinned man grins, full lips parting to reveal white perfect teeth.

And oh, yeah Scott has just realized that Gabriella's hands are now tracing his bare back, slow and feather soft. He stiffens and Gabriella's breath ghosts over the back of his neck. "You ruin all my fun Abel."

"Someone's got to keep you out of jail you sex fiend."

"_Quê?_" Gabi's shrieks in Scott's ear and while he's thankful she isn't feeling him up (somehow her hands went from touching his back to tracing his spine and while that was nice...)

"Abel Martinez, protecting the innocent from sexual violation." Benny claps a hand on Abel's muscular shoulders with a laugh, having deposited the keg elsewhere. "You do this world a service."

"Oh you know me."

"_Sim!_ I know you!" Gabi glares at Abel, electric blue eyes looking particularly fierce. "With your head in any available boy's lap! And you call me a_ desviante sexual_! Why are we friends I wonder?"

Lindsey giggles behind her hand, short nails painted metallic. She shoots Scoot a wink before sliding over and gently pushing him in the direction of Derek, of all people. She leers up at Abel and Gabi with a look of pure concentration. "But I thought that was _why_ we were friends with Abel. He teaches us all of the dirty things men like in bed."

"..._sim_. I guess that's right."

Abel just grins.

"So..." Scott, standing in front of Derek, unsure whether he's just unknowingly traded his reality for another one. "Your friends seem...nice?"

"You're blushing. Did Gabi happen to handle your business?"

"What? No!"

"Are you sure? If she did I can tell her to stop. She wont listen but at least a valiant effort would have been made."

Scott is pretty sure he hears a mumbled why _would you complain_ coming from Doyle but he couldn't really be sure, too embarrassed about being half-naked in front of strangers and sexually harassed.

"Up the stairs. First door on the right. Help yourself to whatever clothes fit best." Derek nods towards the top landing and without another word descends the rest of the way down stairs where he too is grabbed up and harassed.

"What the hell..."

* * *

~.~

**Muse: And Scott has to have it spelled out. Just confess. I rather love his romantic descriptions about Issac. I really laughed when I wrote it. **

**Derek's friends are awesome. And if you're wondering, not a one of them are native New Yorkers. Bertie moved there around the time Derek and Laura did. Benny's from Louisiana. Abel's a Kansas City kid and Doyle's from Ohio. Lindsey is from California and Gabi's Brazilian.**

**Derek's dressing like...what? He has other kinds of clothes. Which you'll see more of.**

**Review and no flames please!**


	6. Chapter 6

_A Slice of Life story_

* * *

~.~

**Muse: So... basically I'm bored and in being bored an idea struck me, and when ideas strike me bad things tend to happen to characters I like. The newest character that I cannot get enough of is Derek Hale, because, and to use the nickname, he is such a Sour Wolf. No really. He's like, a ball of grumpy filled angst (for obvious and valid reasons) sautéed in dry wit with a side of gallows humor. Is it any wonder why I've come to love this character? And because I love him I've decided to give him *le gasp* friends!**

**I know. How is that even possible? Well it occurred to me that because he's a grump who grumps like a champ, he's mildly attractive *shifty eyes* and he's actually got this dark sense of humor and snark that he'd actually attract a certain amount of people to hang around with. Like, maybe one or two real friends that he can call and just growl at, who laugh and call him out on his growling? Why the hell not, right? Anyway, that was the reason I wrote this, boredom and the intense urge to just _this_.**

* * *

~.~

Stiles is pretty much a pile of mush, lazing on the far end of the sofa watching a monster movie marathon when his phone vibrates and rings. It's resting on the coffee table teetering at the corner and ready to fall off until he sits up with a groan and grabs his phone.

"What?!"

And Stiles becomes more and more awake the longer Scott complains in his ear. Derek has friends...adult friends. Sexual deviant foreigner friends.

Stiles is so interested now.

"Where are you like- okay are they the blue topped townhouses in Lake? ...you don't know? Really dude, you get in Derek Hale's car and you didn't think to look out the window at your surroundings? This is why bad things happen Scott- Hold on what? You found a letter?- Yeah wait I'm getting the Garmin- You know what a garmin is...yes Scott, it's the scary box that tells you where to go- No I don't think you're stupid. What's the address?"

He gets there in twenty minutes, traffic was awful and of course, because Stiles is incapable of being even remotely subtle he brings a camera tucked into his jacket pocket. He wants pictures of these so-called friends and sexual foreign deviants.

Because, other than raunchy independent 90's movies or really awesome web comics, friends like these don't exist. Or maybe they do in New York.

Plus, he kind of wants to see the kind of people Derek surrounded himself with while in his self-exile from Beacon Hills. Did they all meet in college or in highschool in New York? Did he meet them within the year? Did they all work together? Did he date either of the girls? Did Laura date any of the guys? Basically he wants to solve the puzzle that is Derek Hale purely because he's curious. Not interested in any way shape or form in Derek Hale. Nope. He's not.

But maybe, he totally is.

* * *

~.~

He pulls into Lake-the downtown district of Beacon Hills, which is just a two long stretches of road outlined by businesses with large glass display windows, brightly lit insurance agencies, mellow coffee shops and a few shady bars. Going down this long stretch there is a direct right turning where Lake View Place (laughable because there is no lake) rests, nestled between to apartment buildings which have seen better days.

Further along are what people would call houses on the wrong side of the tracks, but Stiles is pretty sure all that actually means is that the houses are old and the people who mostly live inside of them are pretty old too. His grandmother lived in a house just passed Lake View-it was antebellum and beautiful yet creepily old. Like all of the houses in that neighborhood. He'd never seen anyone close to his age or even his father's age who lived there.

He pulls into the Lake View Place guest parking lot and takes a lungful of air from the opened window, his hands are a little sweaty and shaky. Stiles is...excited. For the first time in a few months he'll be meeting new people who seem to be-as far as Scott could tell, human.

It's kind of nice.

He climbs out of the jeep, grabbing phone and shoving it into his pocket with his keys. The keys make a hard clicking sound as he slams the jeeps door shut and his phone vibrates in his pocket-a text from Scott most likely. It isn't like anyone else would text him. Despite getting to know more people in the past few months due to certain circumstances it isn't like he's actually gotten to make any new friends.

Sure there had been that almost with a female friend he still isn't comfortable talking about, because she'd given him the run around and ended up with someone else anyway _"Stiles we've been friends since we were kids, you, me and Scott. I don't want to screw it up. You've kind of given me the cold shoulder since Scott's turned into super lacrosse captain."_

Fucking Greenberg...girl stealing bastard.

He walks up the narrow sidewalk lined by grass and sees a winding curve leading towards a slight incline-a small hump of a hill and there should be the cluster of townhouses-he really should have parked on the other side nearest the townhouses. Visitors parking is ridiculously far away.

_Why the hell is there visitors parking anyway? Oh right, there's the office right there._

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks his texts, all from Scott, passing identical red doors thinking. He reaches the one and only blue door and chuckles at the glimmering metallic seven. Of course.

He knocks on the door and hear nothing but voices on the other side, laughter mumbled by low music. He knocks harder this time and the door, which must not have been properly shut before slowly swings opened.

Ah, Stiles thinks as he stares into the opened space, down the narrow hall there is light and a girl with short curly hair, wide brown eyes and a sweet smile laughs as she leans into Derek-who has somehow yet to notice the opened door or Stiles at all.

There it is, the proof that Derek is a real boy after all.

And something settles in Stiles's belly that he refuses to call jealousy because-yeah, no. He is so not about jealousy or even about Derek at all.

The girl seems to notice the opened door and turns her attention to him and Stiles feels like a deer caught in the headlights. The brown-haired girl hands Derek her beer and saunters -yeah- saunters down the narrow hall towards Stiles with a bright easy-going grin.

It's crooked and goofy and Stiles thinks he might have liked that smile had it not been trained at Derek first.

Whatever.

"Well, aint 'chu just a cutie!" She drawls almost unnecessarily thick with her accent.

"Um." Is all Stiles is really able to say. He's never been called a _cutie_ by any woman under the age of sixty.

It seems almost unnatural. "Hi?"

"You know Dee Dee?"

"Dee...Dee-oh Derek! Yeah I know him." Stiles eyes move passed the girl and land on Derek desperately. He waves. "And Scott. Whose here and needs a ride?"

"Well 'cmon in sugar." The girl yanks on his arm and pulls him in. She is surprisingly strong.

And drunk, obviously if her slight slur is anything to go by.

"What's your name?"

"Stiles."

"Stiles? Oh Scotty's told me all about you. Best friend, thick as thieves since what?" She stops pulling him and taps a long finger against her chin in thought, the nail painted a glossy midnight blue. "Since...what kindergarten?"

"Third grade actually." Stiles corrects her.

"Bertie de Sousa." She sticks out a hand. "Nice to meet 'cha."

"Bertie? Like _Birdy_?"

She grins.

"It's a nickname to use in lieu of a mistake on my mother's part. A name as good as any _Stiles_."

He grins too.

So a kindred. Another human being who has been given the short end of the stick from birth starting from the name their parents picked. Stiles hooks his arm around Bertie's and the two walk the rest of the way down the hall.

He wont ask her what her actual name is, he knows better than that has been in that situation too. His name-God, his mother must have been high off of everything when she'd given birth- named him after his grandfather, a man who Stiles remembers vaguely, spoke with the thickest accent he'd ever heard.

He wonders if Bertie's story is the same. Maybe she'd been named after a great-grandmother or after a male relative or, if her mother had wanted to be extra creative, after a city or a weird fruit or vegetable.

"Whose the twink?" Is the first thing Stiles hears when he walks into the livingroom adjacent to a small kitchenette area, the counter littered in beer bottles, liquor bottles and a few jars with glowing sticky looking syrup.

The words come out of a guy with huge glasses and dreads, leaning against the wall closest to the stairway.

"The twink," Stiles finds his mouth moving because- _nervous_- and he can't even keep his mouth shut when he's nervous if anything nervousness makes him ramble more than he already does. "Is Stiles Stilinski. Whose the _dork_ with dreads?"

"Doyle Granger." Dreads smirks, gray eyes slanting behind his bottle glasses. "Stiles Stilinski? That's quite the name. A handle like our dear Bertie's I take it." He says something else in a different language.

"Don't mind Doyle," A girl with the shortest hair and sweetest face Stiles has ever seen pipes up from behind the kitchen counter. She's mixing drinks, some one a tray all their own mixed with the murky syrup in the jar. Her fish net gloves catch at the corner as she hands him a beer.

"Doyle's rude."

Doyle's hand rests on his heart like the girl has given him a physical blow. Stiles grins down at her for the drink. "Lindsey, I'm not rude."

"Sure you're not." She says. Turning her head up at Stiles she winks. "Lindsey Howard, by the way."

"You already know my name."

"It's a pretty fab handle." She says and Stiles doesn't quite know what to think about _f__ab handle_, or the way Doyle's eyes linger on his mouth from across the small sitting room.

Huh...so that's what lust looks like when Stiles isn't the one directing it.

A Greek statue brought to life walks down the stairs and right by Stiles into the kitchen area. He grabs a beer bottle and chugs half down as he undoes his tie with his free hand.

His hair is coppery though his beard is a deeper shade and trimmed nicely. Overall, the guy is bigger than Derek but doesn't have the face of a serial killer. Ginger head has something of a Jolly Old Saint Nick thing about him. Santa Clause, the early years.

"Benjamin McDowell. Benny for short."

"Huh?"

"You're," Ginger head- Benny- grins kindly over his beer. "givin' me the once over pretty hard kid."

"Oh, I was staring-sorry!"

"I's not a problem. You got t' get the full feel of people. Derek hasn't introduced you to anyone. Rude as he can be the damn imp."

Benny tilts his chin in the direction of the couch where Derek is perched, dressed like a regular person (wonder upon wonders) and grinning drunkenly over a full jar of glowing syrup and what another guy who looks only a little like a mixture of Danny and Scott, proceeds to dump the entire contents of a small bottle of whiskey.

Derek is...drunk? Werewolves don't get drunk they can't they-

"It's fae." The guy next to Derek answers Stiles silent questions of what the heck and what is that, with a smile. "Our little Lindsey is...how should I say it?"

"Supernaturally connected." Lindsey sticks her tongue out at Whiskey guy. "He's Abel, by the way."

"Fae like fairy?" Stiles eyes lock onto the jar then to Lindsey. "You're a fairy?"

"Well no. But I know a troll who brews just about anything. Used to deliver his stuff to other faeries back in the day-Never is what it's called." She grins. "That was before the whole Seelie Unseelie thing, right Dee Dee?"

Derek huffs a laugh and leans back against the couch. He looks at Lindsey for a fraction of a moment before his hooded glassy green eyes slide to Stiles before they close.

"Why ask me? I wasn't even involved."

"Solitary fae." She whispers to Stiles like Derek can't hear her. "Werewolves are shaky with the label as fae- they think they're above all that."

Derek grunts and Abel just laughs.

"So werewolves are fairys? There are different kinds of fairys?"

"No idiot." Derek grumbles from the couch. "Fae. It's a race- not necessarily of the _same_ species. Werewolves are not fae," Derek shoots Lindsey the evil eye before she argues her point. "we aren't susceptible to iron for one."

"But wolfsbane works just as well. Admit it, werewolves just have this thing against being called fae. Stupid if you ask me, supernatural creatures, magic and ridiculously long lives? All the same to me. Birds of a fucking feather."

"Don't necessarily flock together, _menina_." Another blond with dreads threaded with beads and thread walks down the stairs and gives Stiles the up down. Her accent is thick and sultry. "And who are you?"

"This," Derek says with a grunt. He's extra grumpy when he's drunk, Stiles notes. "is Stiles Stilinski and no, you _can't_ have him **don't** touch him. He's the Sheriff's kid."

"No need to show fang Derek, I wont touch your _precioso_ Stiles. Unless he asks me to." She breezes past Stiles, ignoring a growling and red-eyed Derek as she moves into the kitchen behind Benny. "Although, if you are so worried about him being the Sheriff's son you might want to make sure he doesn't get drunk."

Stiles looks down at the cool beer in his hand ready to fight for it-because no adult has ever just given him a beer before without asking for ID, but all Derek does is grin.

"I meant don't molest him."

"So I can drink this?"

"This and that...though," Derek gives Stiles a look. "if you're planning on falling on your ass blissed out drunk you might want to call your dad and let him know you're staying at a friend's house first. I am not letting you drive home drunk."

Well okay then-wait. Stiles is forgetting something. Something rather important.

"Scott's hiding upstairs."

"You're a mind reader too...Dee Dee." Stiles pushes because he's Stiles and Derek is Derek also known as _Dee Dee_.

Derek's fangs come out and the blond woman with dreads (who introduces herself as Gabi) throws a plastic cup at the Alpha's head. It's enough to get Derek's attention on her while Stiles sneaks upstairs and goes to the only shut door.

He knocks once, twice and is unsurprised when Scott yanks the door opened and pulls Stiles inside.

And Scott liked to call Stiles a drama queen.

"Dude."

"What is wrong with you- wait, why are you wearing Derek's clothes?"

"Because I needed to wear clothes." Scott says frantically. He looks out of the bedroom and sighs when he sees nothing. Calmed. "Good. Gabi's still downstairs."

"So you're afraid of Gabi?"

"Oh God you met her?! Did she touch you?" Scott give Stiles a full on examination, complete with sniffing.

Ugh! Stiles is never going to get used to werewolves.

"Yeah dude, she's harmless. A little intense in that she's sexy as hell and not afraid to broadcast, but harmless."

"She...touched me."

"Dude. A lot of people touch you."

"But she's a she's a..."

Stiles rolled his eyes at Scott. He was missing something here. Because why the hell is Scott wearing Derek's clothes unless there was something totally and completely wrong?

"Are you having a crisis? It's a crisis isn't it?"

"Can you tell?"

"Obviously. So...what's up pussycat?"

* * *

~.~

**Muse: Stiles has made it to Derek's place and has done a hell of a lot better than Scott with meeting Derek's friends. **

**Werewolves are not fae. Lindsey thinks otherwise and Derek knows it a lost cause in threatening her to shut up about it.**

**And yes. That was a blatant Tithe Series shout out. Book 2, Valiant to be precise-Ravus is the troll that Lindsey is talking about. She was, for a short time apparently one of his carriers, delivering 'Never' to exiled fairies. 'Never' is used by faeries in exile so their bodies can be resistant towards iron. This also gets werewolves drunk (in this story)**

**This will be expanded later on to explain how they all met. Done with updating tonight. Catch you in a few days with another batch of chapters!**

**Review please!**


	7. Chapter 7

**~.~**

_Slice of Life_

* * *

**~.~**

_**Muse: So... basically I'm bored and in being bored an idea struck me, and when ideas strike me bad things tend to happen to characters I like. The newest character that I cannot get enough of is Derek Hale, because, and to use the nickname, he is such a Sour Wolf. No really. He's like, a ball of grumpy filled angst (for obvious and valid reasons) sautéed in dry wit with a side of gallows humor. Is it any wonder why I've come to love this character? And because I love him I've decided to give him *le gasp* friends!**_  
_**I know. How is that even possible? Well it occurred to me that because he's a grump who grumps like a champ, he's mildly attractive *shifty eyes* and he's actually got this dark sense of humor and snark that he'd actually attract a certain amount of people to hang around with. Like, maybe one or two real friends that he can call and just growl at, who laugh and call him out on his growling? Why the hell not, right? Anyway, that was the reason I wrote this, boredom and the intense urge to just write this.**_

* * *

**~.~**

The way Scott described**_ The Epic Love of his Life Part II_** had Stiles shooting the dresser mirror a glance every few seconds just to make sure his brain hadn't melted into gooey mush and had begun trickling out of his ears.

No gooey brain slush.

So he was obviously alright apart from the news of Scott being in love with Issac instead of horribly jealous of Allison's new boyfriend. Stiles began to wonder at what point he'd woken up in an alternate universe- one were Derek Hale had awesome friends and Scott was **not** in love with Allison.

And then he started to picture Scott's past relationship with Allison and added Issac in her stead. All the nights gushing over the phone about how cute Allison was replaced with Scott comparing Issac's blue eyes to a cloudless sky (which Scott was doing now, actually.)

Stiles shuddered at the picture of pure horror. Scott and Issac as a couple. The terror.

On the flip side they'd make an insanely attractive couple, cute and totally **not** inappropriate at all in front of Stiles with the impromptu face mashing and googley eyes he'd had to suffer through the Allison and Scott era. Stiles had hated that! Then again...Issac eyes already did the googley thing, mostly at Scott when Scott wasn't looking.

Very _I hope Sempai notices me, _Stiles thought,_ which is kind of hilarious if you think about it like that. Since Sempai totally noticed and ew...no don't even think about that Stiles because that would make Scott 'Sempai.'_

"Wait-so why didn't you tell me any of this earlier. At the diner?" Stiles gives Scott a look. A look that says he's a little insulted and annoyed.

"Well, you don't really like Issac." Scott answers truthfully. "I didn't think you'd..."

"You didn't think I'd approve?" He actually_ tsked_ at that. "Dude. It really doesn't matter if I hate your stupid boyfriend as long as you _don't_ hate your stupid boyfriend. Plus...one of us might as well have a love life worth mentioning."

"Still pissed about-"

"Nope!" Stiles puts his hands up, like he's warding off a blow. "We aren't talking about it. I'm over it."

"If you're sure."

"More than sure."

"Are you very sure, _precioso_?"

Scott literally jumps behind the bed at Gabi's voice and Stiles seriously wonders if its possible for Scott to be the worst werewolf in the world. How did he not hear her walk up? Seriously!

Stiles turns his back to the bed (and Scott shivering in fright behind it) and faces the opened door, staring straight at Gabi. She's holding a beer in one hand and a flute glass in the other, which she gestures towards Scott.

"I promise,_ caro_, that I didn't lace this with anything."

"Not that syrup stuff?"

"Well no. I thought I would let him do that himself." She grins. "I don't think he likes me."

Stiles takes the flute glass and hands it to Scott who has at least some decency. He stands up, takes the drink and downs it in one gulp. "Syrup stuff?"

"Seriously dude. You heard none of that downstairs earlier?"

"Fairy's right? That's about the gist."

"...worst werewolf. Ever."

"_Quê_?" Gabi's eyes land on Scott. She grins widely. "Another werewolf?"

She rushes inside the room, grabs Scott by the wrist and drags him out. It all happened pretty quickly and Stiles is convinced that Gabi has to be more than human. By Scott's rather awkward wheezing -if Stiles didn't know any better than he'd think Scott was having an asthma attack- the petrified wolf must think the same thing.

Stiles gulps down a half of his beer, it's fizzy and gross but awesome because-beer. He takes in the large bedroom, standing close to the opened doorway just to take the view in full. It's large and set in the middle is a queen sized bed. At either side two dark night stands. The left nightstand and old school clock sits, ticking away. Stiles grins at the clock, the bells at either side must be deafening in the morning, Derek must not be a morning person.

To the very right side of the room more than half of the wall is glass, a large window, thick and heavy blue drapes pulled wide opened. Beside the dresser sits a wardrobe the only piece of furniture in the room that doesn't look new and isn't the same dark cherry wood. The wardrobe is stark white and old.

Stiles sets his bottle on the dresser, walks around the made bed and sits. He's facing the window, it's nearing dark. He lays back just for a moment and shuts his eyes.

* * *

**~.~**

Scott doesn't know what _never _is exactly, except that its magicly brewed and used so that fairys banished to live in the cities could survive the harsh iron air. _Never_, to humans depending on how you take it, can be incredibly addicting. His glass is heavy. Half _never_ half rum and the effects are miraculous. Everything is magic. Literally.

Scott spots Derek on the sofa, sitting between Lindsey and Abel. The glassy green of his eyes are replaced with red but misty, swimming with bits of gold from the magic in his system from the syrupy mixture in his drink.

"Dude. You're plastered." Scott says wearily, staring into his own cup. He's had two long gulps and feels the effects of it.

He isn't drunk but sufficiently buzzed though he's starting to suspect that _never _gets werewolves a little more than drunk.

Derek looks _stoned_.

Gabi sets herself on Derek's lap keeping her eyes directly on Scott. She cackles when Scott chokes on his spit.

"Dee Dee. Read to me."

"Get me a book. A good book." Derek leans back against the sofa, his large hand heavy on Gabi's thigh. It's innocent, the way she cuddles into him and the way his hand just rests on her thigh, comfortable.

Do guy and girl friends actually cuddle like that, and it doesn't get weird?

"What book?"

"You know what book."

Doyle, who is seated on the floor, back leaning against Derek's legs, rolls his eyes behind his large glasses. He looks remarkably like a grasshopper. "Wallflower."

"Wallflower" is uttered by all but Scott in the living room. He's lost somewhere, missing something definitely by the way Benny dramatically plucks a small paperback out of his blazer pocket (how did that even fit?)

"A book." Derek supplies for Scott, who seems to be wearing confused and lost on his face rather well. "Laura got me into it a few years ago-actually its _sort _of how we all met."

"Wallflower happened to be in the best condition and smelled the least like mold and dirt in Luis' bag. When was it published again, Dee Dee?"

"1999." Derek answers slowly, weirdly. He pronounces the year strangely like he can't help but pronounce the T's has hard as possible. It comes out like; _Nine_-**T! **_Nine_-**T!**-_Nine_.

"Whoa Dee Dee, we were thirteen when the book came out! 1999...what a year." Lindsey says. "1999 was shit. Every year was shit until the tunnels."

"That's where you guys read this book. In a tunnel?" Scott is brave enough to ask now. Everyone's drunk so they wont care if he's nosey.

_Is this how Derek met these people, living in a tunnel? _

"Beneath the trolls bridge, there existed a tiny private library where the beast often allowed his humble neighbors to make use of." Lindsey adds drunkenly.

"Those were the days." Abel tips his head back in thought, dark eyes misted over-but he isn't drunk he's something else. "Making deals, living in the tunnels."

"Pissing in a stinking empty can of coffee, the taste of ass after an all nighter on_ the stuff_. You guy's make it sound so great until someone mentions that." Doyle shakes his head, perfectly sober.

"Aw Doyle, ye know it wasn't all bad." Benny says from the kitchen. He stiring something on the stove top. It smells spicy and citrusy almost too overwhelmingly good.

Scott scampers over and peers at the strange contents in the wok.

"What are you making?"

"Hmm...this here? Just throwing whatever the imp's got lef' over in the fridge. This'll probably come out like a chinese rice reject but it'll be enough to sober up these fools."

Scott grins. He likes Benny. He seems the least weird.

"So how did you all meet?" He asks. "I mean. Derek doesn't seem people friendly at all. And all of you are...nice."

Benny laughs.

"He's plenty nice but I guess to a kid like you he'd be a mite intimidating." Benny crosses his arms across his massive chests and hums. "Well, I'll tell ya. I met him around the time Laura was in heavy trouble. Hunters you see."

"Hunters?"

"Yeah. She'd been a little less than honest with the boy, then again he didn't tell her who he really was either."

"She _dated _a hunter."

"It happens every so often, I hear."

"So you helped her out of trouble with hunters?"

"I did. It went a little like this-"

* * *

**~.~**

The living room is covered in empty bottles, dirty plates and sleeping bags fiddled with idiots-well idiots according to Derek. He stands up and steps over various bodies.

Lindsey and Gabi are sharing a sleeping bag. Doyle's laying in the kitchen, mouth opened wide drooling with his face pressed against the tiled floor.

Benny escaped hours before to the spare room with Abel. Scott's curled up on the end of the sofa, furthest away from where Derek was seated. He's snoring softly into the armrest.

After checking the front door and shutting off all the lights, Derek makes his way slowly upstairs. Still drunk, still weary from a long day.

"Wait...where the hell did Bertie go?"

She'd disappeared around the time Stiles had walked upstairs and...hadn't come back down.

"Those two. I hope to hell they haven't done anything stupid"

His head is spinning but he manages to make it to his bedroom, promptly hitting the carpeted floor. If only he'd reached the bed...

* * *

**~.~**

Birds are singing outside his window, the pillow underneath his head is soft and firm and warm. Stiles didn't remember his mattress being so awesome. Or the way the sunlight warmed the wrong side of his face-

Oh! He remembers now. He'd drunk half a beer and had fallen asleep in Derek's bed. Well isn't that just potentially dangerous.

Stiles brown eyes open into tiny slits and he winces at the steady stream of light on his face. He shuts his eyes against the light and concentrates on getting out of Derek's bed. He wonders if Derek had just stayed up all night or maybe, if Stiles were lucky, he had only taken a very light nap.

Didn't account for all the morning sunlight though. He remembered distinctly how dark it had been when he'd laid on the bed and shut his eyes. So maybe Derek had just left him there and decided to bunk elsewhere, taking his drunken haze to another room. Drunk Derek seemed nice. Normal Derek was a dick that liked to slam him into things.

Getting out of this bed was potentially dangerous for Stiles who was still so so comfortable!

"What the hell. Might as well get some more sleep if it means Derek is going to kill me for stealing his bed. Right?" He groans into his pillows and sighs.

"Mmf! Stop moving!" A husky voice says above his head and Stiles is so very much awake. He sits up and shrieks in horror.

"W-what...What the HELL are you doing in bed with me naked?!" He screams in horror, pointing at the woman beside him.

"You're not DEE DEE!" Bertie realizes with a sudden shout and scrambles to the corner of the bed.

"Obviously I lack the mutated eyebrows! And why do you sleep in Derek's bed naked?"

She looks down at her own attire and rolls her eyes at the teenager with the red hoodie. "Darlin' stop squawking. I'm not naked."

"Nearly naked then."

She gives his a long unblinking stare and looks down at herself again. Bright red panties and a tank top. Not naked-she always sleeps that way. "Okay. Nearly naked."

She gets up from the bed and lifts her arms to stretch. Bertie walks towards the window . Stiles makes an awkward sound and turns away, staring straight out of the opened window where..a man who had been walking his dog is now paused, standing rim rod straight and staring directly passed Stiles at partially naked Bertie.

Stiles slams the curtains shut and flips on the light.

"Really? You know there was a man out there staring at you. Have you no shame?"

"Shame is for those who _lack _confidence, sweetie."

"So about last night...did we?"

"Kid it's okay. If I thought you were Dee Dee then there is no way in hell I touched you last night."

"Why would you say that? You couldn't have let me imagine the possibility of molestation by a hot girl. Really?"

"Would you both shut your mouths. I'm trying to die here."

They pause and Stiles feels his life is almost at its end. He walks the length of the bed towards the Derek's voice and stares down.

Derek is laying on the floor, head pillowed by his discarded sweater. His eyes are tired and red rimmed around the edges. "Stop staring at me."

"Why are you on the floor?"

"The floor seemed closer." Derek answers. He sits up and cracks his neck, looking ready to kill anything that even looks at him funny. "Good..." He looks clock on the nightstand. "..morning."

"Oh my God seriously. All you have to say is good morning?"

"What else am I supposed to say?"

"I don't know." Stiles shrugs. "Maybe 'what the hell were you doing in my bed' or 'what the hell were you doing in my bed with my girlfriend.' You know, a normal human response other than 'good morning.' Just saying."

Derek looks at Stiles red nervous face, spattering of moles and birthmarks nearly indecipherable from his red blush, and then lets his eyes stray to Bertie. Bertie who is busily pulling up her jeans and searching for her bra.

"Did something happen between you two last night that I need to be concerned about? Tell me I can get the stains out of my sheets."

"Nothing happened." Bertie locates the lacey underwire from under the bed with a cheer. She pulls off her tank top and gets to work with hooks. "I just crashed here. Thought it was you."

"Seriously. No shame." Stiles eyes are shut tightly and his breathing is definitely haggard now.

"Oh."

"Oh? Seriously she just climbed in the bed with me naked. I didn't touch her I swear!"

"Well there was a little touching. Where do you think you had your head last night?"

"Stop it! He'll kill me stop it!"

"Why would he kill you?"

"Because he's your boyfriend that's why!"

The silence is thick and Derek is grateful that they've stopped talking. He stands up, his muscles aching as he makes his way into the bathroom. The last thing he hears before jumping into the hot shower is Bertie.

"Gross! I'm a **lesbian**!"

* * *

~.~

**Muse: Aaaaaannnnnd...Stiles. Poor poor Stiles. Wait, No. Poor poor Derek having to deal with Stiles. Then again, he's desensitized to all the stupidity anyway so it's like white noise.**

**Scott got drunk and here pretty much ends the Tithe series shout outs because I'm not going to include them in the story. No Ravus (maybe I actually like him so...) not Ruth or Val or Luis (I actually like Luis so...)**

**And Bertie, for those of you who thought Derek and Bertie had something going on-okay, the one person reading this story (you are awesome) who might have thought something was going on with Bertie and Derek. Yeah. No. **

**Bertie is a lesbian. **

**Reviews please? I like reviews. Reviews help with updates.**


	8. Chapter 8

**~.~**

_Slice of Life_

* * *

**~.~**

_**Muse: So... basically I'm bored and in being bored an idea struck me, and when ideas strike me bad things tend to happen to characters I like. The newest character that I cannot get enough of is Derek Hale, because, and to use the nickname, he is such a Sour Wolf. No really. He's like, a ball of grumpy filled angst (for obvious and valid reasons) sautéed in dry wit with a side of gallows humor. Is it any wonder why I've come to love this character? And because I love him I've decided to give him *le gasp* friends!**_  
_**I know. How is that even possible? Well it occurred to me that because he's a grump who grumps like a champ, he's mildly attractive *shifty eyes* and he's actually got this dark sense of humor and snark that he'd actually attract a certain amount of people to hang around with. Like, maybe one or two real friends that he can call and just growl at, who laugh and call him out on his growling? Why the hell not, right? Anyway, that was the reason I wrote this, boredom and the intense urge to just write this.**_

* * *

**~.~**

Stiles stumbles down the stairs and pretty much certain he's stepped on someone. Benny's lounging on the sofa next to a snoring drooling Scott while Gabi goes about in the kitchen making breakfast, her dreads are held up with what appears to be bright pink thread.

She turns to Stiles with a grin, points with her spatula at the empty space, the lazy boy, and winks. He takes the offered seat and, still frazzled as he faces Scott.

He shoves him hard enough to push him off the sofa.

"Mmmr? _Allison_?"

"No Scott. _Stiles_.I'm having a crisis."

"_Allison _is having a crisis?"

"First girl in the world I have an all night cuddlefest with turns out to be a lesbian, how is this my life?"

"_Allison's _a **lesbian**?!"

Scott's awake now, eyes blown wide open and yellow, all Eddie Munster in the face and growls. Benny laughs from his seat and finishes the steaming mug of coffee in his hand. Doyle-who Stiles had actually stepped on- rolls over with a snore. Scott retracts the fangs, claws and excess of hair and appears bashful, really bashful at his own stupidity.

In his defense he'd slept curled against an armrest, got drunk off of weird fairy magic syrup and was pretty sure he'd spilled all of his deep and darkest secrets to Gabi, of all people. It's also seven in the morning and Scott doesn't do coherent until eight thirty-five on a good day.

"Yes Scott. Allison is secretly a lesbian. Looks like you're both never ever getting back together. For real this time." Stiles grouses.

"No' like it'd be a problem. Aint that right Scott?" Benny grins. He's dressed much more casually now, a loss fitting navy sweater and jeans- it works for him. "Issac _love of my life_ Lahey, was it? Tha's his name right?"

"Oh my God." Scott seats himself on the sofa again, this time covering his face with his hands. "I did not say that!"

"Yes, _caro_. You did." Gabi's voice comes directly from behind Stiles. She levels a plate filled with bacon and cheesy scrambled eggs right at Stiles face, the fork resting over the part of the eggs with the least amount of cheese. "I hope you like it. Dee Dee doesn't have much so I had to go with boring breakfast."

"Thanks." Stiles takes the plate. He turns back to Scott with a small smile. "Love of your life, already dude?"

"Shut up..."

"We traded stories." Benny says. "I told him how I met the imp and his gorgeous sister-Lord rest her soul. And this one here," Benny knocks shoulders with Scott. "Went about telling Gabi and I everything about the past few months. And Allison. And Issac. Something abou' Issac being the most beautiful thing he ever did see."

"Stop." Scott pulls his reddened face out of his hands and grins. He turns to Stiles. "Dude, what were you saying earlier. Lesbian's?"

"Oh." Stiles takes a large cheesy bite of soft yellowed egg. It's good, and warm with tons of pepper and salt-too much salt maybe but Stiles needs something in his stomach right now. He isn't usually a light weight so what gives...?

"Lesbians?" Scott asks again.

"I woke up in Derek's bed this morning with a mostly naked Bertie. There was cuddling and I may or may not have accidentally copped a feel."

"That's awesome."

"No. No it isn't. She thought I was Derek. Who was passed out on his bedroom floor by the way."

Scott laughs, it sounds nice. Scott hasn't actually laughed like that in a while, of course nothing amusing has really happened as of late. With everyone dying or betraying each other or jumping on the werewolf bandwagon and turning into royal douches (Stiles thinks of Issac.)

"He was really hammered last night. I'm surprised he made it to his room."

"I aint." Benny leans forward and faces the teenagers with a soft smile. Stiles thinks that without the trimmed beard that Benny might actually be really devastatingly handsome. And whoa. That's weird. "The imps got this thing, ye see."

"A thing?"

"When ever he's drunk off of the stuff and knows he's on his way to passing out he holds off enough strength to make it to a safe place. Self preservation. He's too pretty to just fall over dead drunk anywhere he lands." He leans back against the sofa, still grinning like he's remembering something. "I'm shocked ye didn't find him half in the room and half out."

"Nearly." Stiles confesses as he takes another bite. "He was pretty close to the door. Anyway-" Stiles turns back to Scott. "Like I was saying. Bertie had like, a tank top-no bra- and her panties right? And she crawled in bed with me thinking I was Derek. Obviously when I woke up and freaked I assumed, _hey totally gonna get my face eaten for touching Derek's girlfriend_."

"Yeah. I could see that." Scott nods as he plucks a slice of bacon from Stiles plate, ignoring Gabi's look of disdain in the kitchen.

"I'm making yours _caro_. Be patient!"

"Thanks."

"Long story short is, I don't have to worry about being eaten because she's a lesbian. I spent the night with my face in the gloriously large, heavenly soft yet fantastically firm breasts of a lesbian."

There's an awkward silence between friends as Doyle snorts out in his sleep near the stairs (Scott was sure he'd passed out in the kitchen, but whatever) accompanied by the sizzle from Scott's breakfast being prepared on the stove.

"That's...rough...buddy?" Scott says because he doesn't see the crisis here.

Stiles flails.

"You don't see how awful that is?"

"I don't know. No? Not really. You were cuddling a half-naked chick with big boobs. How is that bad?"

"Because Scott, they were the _first boobs_. The _first boobs _I ever (possibly) have motorboat in my sleep. There was cuddling and touching and her lag over my hip and all these wonderful things. And I **literally **had no chance in hell. At all because I don't have a vagina." Stiles says this solemnly.

(Like the drama queen he really is.)

"Yeah. Sucks that you don't have a vagina?" Again, because Scott has no idea what to say to Stiles. Sufficiently stumped because this makes no sense.

"Why can't _I_ have a vagina?"

"Because you have a full functioning penis. Thank God." Doyle's awake and standing over them now with a look of pure amusement. He takes Stiles' empty plate, hands it to Scott and promptly seats himself in Stiles lap. "Penis is awesome. Be glad you have a penis, always be glad. Vagina's are basically inverted penises anyway."

"What the hell dude." Stiles looks up, not in shock by Doyle in his lap because Doyle's not incredibly heavy anyway.

But he's looking at Doyle like he's just grown an extra head or like the dreads have suddenly sprouted scary eyeballs at the end of the thick ropy strands.

"It's true."

"Did I hear inverted penises?" Lindsey walks down the stairs dressed in a bright pink baby doll dress. She's toweling the little bit of hair she does have as she takes in the scene. Turning her attention towards Gabi, she makes a run for the kitchen and hugs the woman's back.

Copping the kind of feel that leaves both your hands full-the kind of feel which also has Stiles sputtering stupidities and Scott blushing. Again.

"_Menina_ what have I told you?"

"Not to grope you while you're cooking."

Gabi nods and Lindsey reluctantly pulls her hands away.

"Sorry."

"Oh my God, is everyone here a lesbian?" Stiles says out loud by accident. He's doing that thing where he's supposed to be thinking in his head instead of saying things out loud.

"Not. Some of use are gay," Doyle points to Abel who is slowly making his way down the stairs in nothing but a pair of jeans. "some of us are straight," He points to Benny who waves. "And others are sort of into everything."

"Ah." Is all Stiles says.

"So you're pansexual?" Scott asks like it's the most normal topic of conversation ever. Then again, when it comes to anyone sexuality Scott's never been one to be shocked. Ever.

"Bi-sexual actually although, there is pansexuality in this group of friends here." Doyle shoots Scott an impressed look like he can't believe Scott is actually capable of holding this sort of conversation.

But then, this is Scott Anotnio McCall. He surprises everyone.

"Okay, what the hell is with all the noise in this house?" Derek makes his way downstairs, dressed like Abel (just jeans abs deliciously exposed.) Bertie following close behind him dressed in jeans and another tank top.

"We were talking about sexuality. Scott's love for a kid named Issac and Stiles here's inability to form a full functioning vagina."

Derek pauses at the foot of the stairs, stares at all of the people in his living room like he's examining all of his life choices. He shoots Doyle a look that makes the funny man move off of Stiles' lap and onto the coffee table.

"Dude. Chill."

"I'm always chill." Derek says before making his way into the kitchen, bumping into Abel on his way to the coffee maker.

"Anyway-" Doyle says. "pansexuality."

"Yeah. What is that?" Stiles asks because he's never heard of it before.

He earns a significant look from Scott, like he's a slow kid accidentally placed in the advanced class, before he explains.

"Being attracted to people despite gender."

"So like, _bisexual_?"

"No." Scott shakes his head. "Liking people, **all **people. Neither male or female, transgendered you get me? Everyone."

"Oh." Stiles nods. He gets it. Sort of. "Okay."

"Yep. Case in point," Benny turns his attention to Derek with a mischievous grin. "Hey, how long were you an' Carol Anne together, Dee Dee?"

Derek fills a bright blue Tardis mug with steaming black coffee, his head tilted in thought as he adds too much sweetener and enough sugar to go into a diabetic coma. "With Carl? Hmmm...long enough to be there when he started hormone therapy and to celebrate his gender reassignment operation. Why?"

"Just educating the kid."

"Okay." Derek goes back to getting his coffee to sugary perfection while Stiles just stares in shock at the stoic Alpha.

Scott's all smiles, like this is nothing and to Scott it really isn't. No one is different, everyone's the same. The world is beautiful and nothing hurts.

Stiles really envies that about Scott he really does.

"So a long time?" Stiles asks a little reluctantly. He doesn't know if he's allowed to ask Derek personal questions.

"Five years." Bertie answers. "Broke it off when Carl wanted to concentrate on being Carl. Dee Dee was very understanding."

"It was mostly casual." Derek says from the kitchen, arm loose around Lindsey's thin shoulders and he sips his coffee. "We were mostly friends anyway. So when the relationship ended the friendship remained. Better off that way I think."

Well. You learn something new everyday.

A phone rings and Scott reaches into his pocket. By the look on his face it can be only one of two people. His mother or Issac.

"Hey mom...with Stiles...right now? Okay." Scott turns to Stiles and half heartedly grins. "Sure. I'll catch a ride. Bye." He hangs up and stands. "Dude. My mom's pissed."

"Why?"

"I wasn't home last night. I didn't call."

"I'll take you now."

With awkward hugs and nice meeting you's and a pat to their rumps (Gabi or Doyle or possibly both) Stiles and Scott, still dressed in Derek's clothes, make their way out into the crisp morning towards the jeep.

As they settle inside and Stiles starts for the road Scott turns to Stiles and grins.

"Dude. How weird was that?"

It was really _really_ weird.

* * *

**~.~**

**Muse: No excuses. I updated sooner than I thought because this thought came to me and wouldn't go away. By the way, Gabi's mostly straight, same as Lindsey who just likes to get a rise out of new people-hence the boob grope. I hope I got the pansexual thing right. I think I did for the most part but I didn't want to go into detail. Its all a bit new to me. BTW Carol Anne is based on one of my actual real life friend who had the same name before he changed it.**

**I know its common to make Derek either gay or bisexual in fan works but my headcanon goes like this. He isn't human and he isn't wolf, he's in between right? So his sexuality is in between. It's whatever, he likes who he likes. He doesn't fall into the heteronormative because he doesn't belong in any sort of category at all.**

**Scott being Scott here. I don't think its far off from canon itself. Scott doesn't care about sexuality at all. I actually really love that part of his actual character-the nice guy to beat all nice guys. Accepting of everyone and anyone no matter what, if they deserve his acceptance IE if they aren't bad people. Bad people, in Scott's opinion are jerks. But if you're nice. Awesome. He loves you already.**

**And Antonio? Why not? I can only imagine his face when his mother utters, dangerously "Scott Antonio McCall." With accent. That's when you know you're in trouble.**

**Plus I love the name Antonio. Abel's name was going to be Antonio.**

**Drop a comment. I love those! They're like digital hugs and kisses!**

**BTW there is no beta for this.**


	9. Chapter 9

**~.~**

_Slice of Life_

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**~.~**

_**Muse: So... basically I'm bored and in being bored an idea struck me, and when ideas strike me bad things tend to happen to characters I like. The newest character that I cannot get enough of is Derek Hale, because, and to use the nickname, he is such a Sour Wolf. No really. He's like, a ball of grumpy filled angst (for obvious and valid reasons) sautéed in dry wit with a side of gallows humor. Is it any wonder why I've come to love this character? And because I love him I've decided to give him *le gasp* friends!**_  
_**I know. How is that even possible? Well it occurred to me that because he's a grump who grumps like a champ, he's mildly attractive *shifty eyes* and he's actually got this dark sense of humor and snark that he'd actually attract a certain amount of people to hang around with. Like, maybe one or two real friends that he can call and just growl at, who laugh and call him out on his growling? Why the hell not, right? Anyway, that was the reason I wrote this, boredom and the intense urge to just write this.**_

* * *

**~.~**

~.~

Issac slouched like usual against his desk. Head resting on his crossed arms on the fake wood. He stared straight ahead at Mr. Morris as the man read from an overused, ruined history book that had once seen better days. Issac had to know that Stiles was staring at him and yet, he didn't acknowledge it.

_What does Scott see in him?_

_Okay, so Issac is aesthetically pleasing with the curly hair and the bone structure and the wide blue eyes...but Issac?_

_He's a dick._

The bell rings and Issac high tails it out of the room like Edward Cullen in the first Twilight book (purely read for research.) He's probably meeting Scott, which ought to be hilarious to witness. Issac staring with giant blue eyes while Scott hyperventilates while, simultaneously, tries to retain the urge to rape Issac's mouth.

**Yuck!**

Shoving his notebook and pen into his bag, Stiles straightens, takes a determined breath and leaves the classroom. He's determined not to watch Scott make a fool of himself no matter how hilarious that might be, and he's trying not to gag at the thought of his best buddy hooking up with the _Regina George_ of Derek Hale's pack of Mean Wolves.

Well, whatever's left of the pack. Erica and Boyd being MIA and all. Peter's decided to skip town after, what Derek describes, was used with a musical number over the phone.

Stiles had actually heard the message (Derek had been drunk enough to hand over the phone) and what it consisted of primarily was: _Bye Bye Bye_ and _good luck with the Alpha pack. I believe in you. Hope you don't die too terribly _and _use the power of love._

The power of love?

_Really?_

He spots Scott at his locker, Issac looming creepily and hopefully in Scott's personal space with a purely innocent look about him. Of course Issac would be completely innocent about Scott's intentions, of course he wouldn't know attraction if it blatantly shoved its tongue down his throat and fondled his ass.

Of course.

Because Scott's life sucks almost as much as Stiles' life sucks. Not worse than Stiles life not better just...equally as sucky.

Because Stiles decides to be an awful friend (because Scott falls into yet another romantic tryst doomed to end horribly) he decides to abandon the wayward puppy and make his way straight home.

Because Stiles is allowed to be shitty every once in a while.

Just because his life is mostly werewolves and hunters and death doesn't mean Stiles isn't entitled to a break every now and then.

Plus, if he lets Scott squirm around on his own enough, then maybe he'd just lay one on Issac. That way Issac will realize that Scott's tongue in his mouth wants to be more than friends and Stiles can begin to live his life half blinded by Issac and Scott: A Love Story.

He makes it outside. The day seems beautiful and he doesn't see Lydia with her cloud of depression followed closely by Danny, or Greenberg with his new girlfriend who Stiles pretends not to notice as she waves sadly at him. Stiles wants no pity, he really doesn't. Gets enough of that from Lydia on a good day.

Stiles doesn't see Allison and her new boyfriend-the Ken Doll. Which is good because, the guys nice but too nice and its unsettling.

Everything should be hunky with a light side of dory. The sun is still out but masked by some clouds and the air is crisp. He doesn't have practice so he can relax.

It should have been an okay Friday.

But it isn't.

"Balls..." He mutters to himself and walks ever so slowly towards his jeep.

A few guys hanging out in the beds of their trucks stare at Stiles or his jeep in mild surprise and he can already hear the rumors that will spread like wild-fire by the time Monday morning rolls around. Circulating about Stiles and the older woman with a mini skirt and tight as hell corset accentuating her breasts- a rumor that his father will undoubtedly hear about and question him later...

Oh my God why is this his life?

"I spy with my little eye something that begins with _lesbian_." He jokes, standing directly in front of his jeep.

"Hey." Bertie, perched on the hood, grins down at him viciously.

"You wanna...get down?"

"What? Am I embarrassing you?"

She is. Her clothes, provocative as they are, are very eye-catching. Everyone's looking at them and if it's not on the field or if he isn't making a fool of himself then it isn't wanted.

"A little bit. People are staring." He admits and realizes it's a mistake when, a moment later his arms are Bertie filled and his lips are pushed against Bertie lips.

There is an agonizing moment where he tries to figure out what to do with his hands;

Place them on her hips? The small of her back?

She pulls away with the biggest shit eating grin he has ever been graced with-and that's saying something. He's friends with Scott who is a pro at shit eating grins.

"What's that face? They were staring so I gave 'em a little show." She places her hands on her hips and observes her handy work.

There had been some whooping, some catcalls. Some of the girls might have stared at her a little too long, trying to determine where and if they'd seen her in class (of course they hadn't she's 25) and it didn't help that she seemed to have found Erica's clothes closet.

If Stiles had whined about the _first boobs _being ruined because she was a lesbian and he had no chance, he was positively _devastated _by the massive cleavage he was seeing right now (Stiles decided that corsets were mans best creation.)

"Why are you here? It's to torture me isn't it? I thought we were friends!"

"We are, sugar." Bertie claps him on the shoulder. "That's why I had Dee Dee drop me off here. I thought, what the heck why don't Stiles, Scotty and I catch a movie?"

"Really?" He asks because he isn't used to anyone who isn't Scott asking him to hang out.

"Really." Bertie shoos him to the driver door. She rounds to the passenger side and waits for him to climb in. "Where is Scotty anyway?"

"Trying not to shout out a gushy romantic confession." Stiles settles himself and reaches for the seat belt before pausing. He pulls off his red hoodie and tosses it at Bertie. "You. Wear that and zip it up at least half way. Talking to you is really hard when all I wanna say is **boobs**."

"Sure." Bertie giggles, pulling the hoodie on and pushing the sleeves up to her elbows. She zips up to just bellow her breasts and grins. "Better?"

"Better."

He starts the car and pretends not to see Issac and Scott walk out of the school. Best be elsewhere lest Scott see's Stiles' jeep.

"We should take Dee Dee." Bertie's says after a minute.

"What?"

"We should get Dee Dee. How fun would it be, making the hermit leave his dark dank cave."

"Not a cave. His bed is made of clouds-I swear."

"So..." Bertie leans forward and fiddles with the radio, lowering soft jazz to the point of hardly loud enough to be heard. She stares side eyed at Stiles. "...you like Dee Dee's bed?"

"Who wouldn't?" He agrees as he makes a U-turn.

Bertie doesn't miss the fact that now, instead of heading towards God Knows Where (she doesn't know the lay of the town all that well just yet) that they're headed towards the townhouses.

"What else do you think about Dee Dee's place? Is it a nice place? Are you comfortable there?"

"It's alright. Didn't get a good look at it apart from the bedroom."

Bertie grins.

"It's nice. Just sayin'."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

"Absolutely not." Derek stands in the doorway face deadpanned.

"But Dee Dee..."

"No." He says walking back into the house.

Bertie and Stiles follow, Stiles eyes concentrating on Derek's tattoo. He wants to ask why he isn't wearing a shirt but doesn't quite know how.

"Why not? Really, I want to know an actual reason."

"Because..." He sounds so harassed when he says it. "...I have things to do."

"Like?"

"Like..." Derek lets off as he sits on sofa. "things that don't concern you."

No one is sure where she got the rolled up newspaper, well Stiles is pretty sure she picked it up off the Lazy Boy where it had been a moment prior but he isn't saying anything. Point is Bertie is quick and has the biggest balls in the world. Derek look two parts annoyed and mildly impressed, even if he's been swatted like a bad dog. Stiles is just surprised that no ones throat was torn out by sharp and jagged teeth.

"Still...no."

"Aw hell! You are no fun." Bertie throws herself on the Lazy Boy with a snort. "I wanted to watch movies, damn it."

"We can watch a movie here."

"But your movies are awful. Everything action packed and hard accents. Nothing is fun and cool."

Derek rolls his eyes and gets up as soon as Stiles sits himself down. He walks towards the cabinet and pulls out a brightly colored DVD. "So you _say. _You'll be eating your words in a minute."

Stiles turns towards Bertie to...mostly look away from alpha ass as Derek bends down to put the shimmering disc into the DVD. His basketball shorts are glossy and a little on the big side, sliding down to the top of Derek's underwear.

Stiles is not interested in the least about Derek Hale's undies and he is certainly not interested in what is underneath-

"Um..."

He's been caught if Bertie's leer is anything to go by.

"Dee Dee...where are the drinks?"

"Where drinks go _obviously_."

* * *

Sorry about the long wait.


End file.
